Like You Were Dying
by BibbityBobbityBoo
Summary: The Trio has a 24hour protection spell the day before the Wizarding World beleives the Final Battle will occur. What do they do with it?
1. The Night Of

"Like tomorrow was a gift

And you've got eternity to think about what

you did you with it

What you did with it…. What did I do with it"

They were only guaranteed twenty-four hours of peace before the protective barriers cast by the Aurors would be discovered and broken. Each had enough magic surrounding them to travel as they liked, where they liked, but the idea of leaving each other made them nervous. After almost a year of constant dependence and being surrounded by each other, twenty four hours seemed too long.

Life had changed, although they weren't quite sure if it was for the better. Along with their independence and near-isolation came power and cunning. Hermoine's problem-solving abilities had been put to the test so many times that it was impossible to count. Harry's sheer power and bravery had saved them from close calls and was what inspired the others. Ron was the best at simply being himself: the confidant, the shoulder to cry on, and the humorist. What they needed most now was dependability and Ron was the perfect candidate.

Yet with their increased survival skills and strengthened friendship came traits that killed them to observe in each other. Harry refused to sleep alone and went nowhere without his wand clearly visible and reachable. Ron's possessive tendencies magnified as his greatest fear became losing Hermione and inferiorities strengthened as he felt he could never measure up to Harry and save someone's life. Hermione constantly looked behind her, always with the same, terrified look, and her naturally over-analytical mind never stopped working, even in sleep where her dreams were fitful and she constantly lashed out.

Much discussion had taken place before a plan had been laid out. each had special places they wanted to visit- Hermione wanted to see her parents, Ron needed to hug each of his siblings and tell them her loved them, and Harry just wanted to be with his family. Since the Burrow seemed to be the place all three felt a compulsion to visit, it was decided that a majority of the time would be spent there. Hermione had become too dear to the boys for them to deny her anything, for she made their lives as comfortable as possible; therefore London was their first stop. An early rising was planned and the trio climbed into their sleeping bags nervous and fearful.

Hermione lay awake for nearly an hour as she thought of what to say to her parents. The fight was soon approaching, most likely soon after the barriers were gone, and the idea of telling her parents that she might never see them again terrified her. She tried to quiet the sob that escaped and seemed to echo from the shack's walls. Deciding that she had to cry, she turned onto her stomach and began to sob heaving cries that shook her entire body. She was simply too young for this; right now, she was supposed to be finishing school, something she didn't know she would ever be able to do, and making summer plans with her friends. She had never imagined herself fighting in a war with a dark lord.

As her sobs slowly died down, she felt large hands caress her back and knew he was beside her. The absence of loud snores should have told her that Ron was still awake, but she still felt guilty about depriving him of much-needed sleep. She rolled back onto her back and opened her mouth to apologize when he softly kissed her and began to speak.

"Don't, I wouldn't have gotten much sleep tonight anyways. If you hadn't started crying, I would have crawled over here; lying down without you next to me seems so wrong. At least now I have a more innocent purpose than to simply enjoy your body next to mine."

Hermione laughed slightly as she moved back in her bag to make room for him. It was a tight fit, but she had begun to prefer this type of closeness. As he wrapped her arms around her and rested his head slightly above hers, he whispered in her ear to cry as much as she needed to. Hermione managed a weak, watery smile as she leaned her head back onto Ron's shoulder.

"I'm done for now. It's impossible for me to think of sad thoughts when you're so close and smelling so wonderful."

"So I'm as distracting to as you are to me. Only fair, I suppose," he laughed.

"Weren't you aware of that? I thought I had made that lovely little fact quite clear the other night," she teased, reaching a hand down to stroke his thigh.

"Let's not tonight, okay? We should probably attempt at sleep so we don't look so pitiful to our parents tomorrow," he said, albeit with some difficulty, and kissing the top of her head.

"I don't think you've ever turned down some 'physical lovin'' before. Are you ill?" Hermione teased, rolling over to face him and looking at his face carefully.

It was Ron's turn to laugh as he squeezed her tightly and kissed her forehead. "Tomorrow, okay? 'Physical lovin'', as you so nicely put it, is on the agenda for tomorrow, I promise."

Hermione didn't answer as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder, slowly breathing in his chocolately scent. Feeling much more relaxed, she drifted easily into a miraculously dreamless sleep.

Ron stayed awake slightly longer, observing her as she slept. Hermione's breathing had become more erratic and faster lately, as if she was always running. Her jaw was always tensed and her brow was always furrowed; Ron expected many premature lines were beginning to form. Each night, before he fell asleep, he would try to smooth out her forehead and gently rub her jaw and neck so she could calm down a little bit.

It hurt him to know he couldn't help her much beyond that. He was nowhere near as clever as her, so helping her decode was impossible. Hell, even simply talking to her was difficult for him; Ron tended to bottle his emotions in and talking about them such confused him even more. Therefore, the only way he could really help her was physically. He, as Hermione put it, had become the king of back rubs and he noticed that simply being next to her caused her to loosen up and breathe easier. Ron had taken to sleeping either right by her or (preferably) sleeping with her so prevent the heart attack he was convinced would happen in her sleep. Harry, of course, King Prat, insisted it was more due to hormones, since Ron was unable to keep a tent from forming in his pants whenever she was within a foot of him.

Sleep soon reached Ron, and he happily dozed off with his head buried in her hair.


	2. Daddy

It was mornings like these that Hermione hated getting out of bed. It was drizzling outside and a cold mist had crept into the shack, causing everything to become uncomfortably damp. The sunlight available seemed drenched in water too, as it unwillingly shone. Sleep clung to her eyes and hurt as she rubbed it away; simply moving her arms caused her horrible back pain. All she wanted to do was cry.

Hermione was about halfway through her routine of preparing breakfast and nudging her boys awake (since she filled the role of mother, somewhat like Wendy, she had ceremoniously declared them hers one drunken night) when she realized what today was. Her desire to cry instantly faded and she wanted to jump and skip as she bustled around the shack. Harry, as usual the first of the two to awaken, laughed as he watched her.

"I assume breakfast is going to be especially tasty this morning," he teased as she handed him clean clothes to wear.

Hermione simply stuck out her tongue and nudged Ron again with her foot. "If you don't wake up soon," she warned, "I'm throwing your breakfast out to the birds."

Ron moaned loudly, but crawled out of the sleeping bag and went behind the changing curtain with Harry as Hermione muttered something about Ron and his stomach.

"You'd think nothing ever happened, with her acting like this," Harry whispered, "what happened last night?"

Ron shrugged. "Just crawled in with her, like normal. I think she's just happy because she gets to go home."

Harry nodded and finished pulling on his sneakers. As happy as he was about today, he still couldn't shake his intense fear. At twelve tonight, the spells could be broken; at twelve tonight, all three of them could die.

Breakfast was finished and their things packed up quickly as the trio's excitement rose. Real food, mommy hugs, and comfort drove them on as they practically ran to the portkey spot set up to take them to London. Once at Hermione's house, it was safe to Apparate to the Burrow.

For some bizarre reason, London's weather was much better than that of the area surrounding the shack. The sun was bright and there was a light breeze as they arrived in the Granger's tiny backyard. Harry and Ron couldn't help laughing at Hermione as she squealed, dropped her things, and began to swing on an old tire swing hanging from an apple tree. They enjoyed watching serious Hermione let her hair down once in a while, since it made things seem a little more normal and they felt more like their age.

Suddenly, Hermione squeeked and jumped up, running fast at something behind Ron and Harry. Her mother and father stood in the doorway with incredulous looks on their faces, as if they couldn't believe their precious daughter was really standing in front of them. They hugged her for what seemed like ten minutes, their faces buried in her hair, her face buried in their bedrobes. Ron noticed all three were crying and began to feel quite uncomfortable; tears, whether good or bad, made it difficult for him to breathe.

Dr. and Dr. Granger looked up smiling and beckoned the boys over. Mrs. Granger hugged each tightly and whispered a soft thank-you in their ears as Mr. Granger shook their hands with one arm wrapped tightly around Hermione. Ron was fairly sure that Mr. Granger had given him a bit of a harsh looked as he shook his hand. Ron made sure that Harry stood between them as Mrs. Granger ushered them into the house and towards the kitchen.

"Now, darling do you all not eat at all? All three of you look starved," Mrs. Granger fussed, sounding eerily like Mrs. Weasley, "Certainly you want some breakfast now?"

"We eat as best we can mum, and since I'm the cook, I can assure you the meals are healthy and regular. We've already had breakfast, but I strongly doubt the boys'll say no to another helping," Hermione teased as she winked at Ron.

Home cooking had never tasted so good to Hermione as she helped herself to another pancake. Granted, it was lacking any sugar, but the trio's diet had been meager due to a strict budget, but none of them cared. All that mattered was that a mommy made it. As they ate, the Grangers kept watch over them, as if afraid Hermione would disappear. At various intervals, she would look up and smile at them in assurance. Yes, she was really here; no, she wasn't leaving anytime soon; yes, she was still alive.

After a large fruit salad, which Ron and Harry devoured as if they had never seen fruit, Mr. Granger arose and asked to see Ron for a moment. Fear flashed briefly across his face as Ron looked to Hermione in desperation. She gave a tiny laugh and continued helping her mother with the dishes. Ron then turned pleadingly to Harry, who chose to ignore him and focus all attention on the radio program playing quietly. Ron had no choice but to stand up meekly and follow.

Mr. Granger and Ron walked down the dark hall and, surprisingly, up the stairs. Ron, who was quite sure Mr. Granger would lead him to a tool shed or at least a darkened study, was surprised when they stopped at a door labeled in large, bright yellow letters "Hermione's Room." Dr. Granger opened the door and beckoned him inside. The room was surprisingly messy, with stuffed animals and pillows littering the floor and bed. Papers and books were strewn across two desks and a window seat, while millions of pictures, almost forty-percent wizarding, were tacked to the walls and ceiling. Somehow, this didn't surprise Ron; seeing Hermione's room nice and neat would have made her less human.

"I have a favor to ask you," Mr. Granger said softly as he picked up a worn teddy bear from Hermione's lumpy bed.

Ron, nodded, unable to pull his eyes away from the pictures littering her walls.

"I know you're taking the best care possible of her. I know you love her and would defend her with your life. Granted, I don't like my baby being in love and I sure as hell don't like the idea of her possibly sleeping with you, but I'm accepting it. All three of you have had to grow up a lot more than necessary," Mr. Granger spoke, holding the bear tightly to his chest, "Ron, she's my baby. I've watched her grow up and I know her strengths as well as her faults. She's loyal, and I've seen the good and the bad that it's done to her. You and Harry were her first real friends, and it kills me when you hurt her, intentionally or unintentionally."

Mr. Granger stopped briefly and looked directly at Ron.

"I know when you've hurt her, whether you mean to or not. She tries so hard to hide it from me, but I know. I'm not asking you to be perfect and I'm not asking you to change, since you've done so much for her. I'm just asking that you don't push her to the side again after this is all over."

Ron let out a choked laugh. "Mr. Granger, pushing her away would get me killed. I know she'd personally kick my ass and I'm terrified of what my family'd do to me. I'm not leaving her; without the threats on my life, I know I couldn't survive without her."

Mr. Granger nodded, and put his arm around Ron's shoulder as they walked out of her room and back to the kitchen.


	3. Dreaming

As Ron and Mr. Granger reentered the kitchen, Hermione gave them a wide smile. She wasn't quite sure what had happened, but as Ron had come back in one piece, she wasn't worried. He came over and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek before sitting back down at the table and listening to the radio program with Harry.

As happy as she was at home, something nagged her that this wasn't quite right. Under normal circumstances, this scene would be taking place at the Burrow, with Mrs. Weasley noisily bustling around and shoving food at them. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be with Ron; they'd still be hiding their feelings and dancing around courtesy. Obviously, these were no longer normal circumstances. Yet, she wasn't sure if it was her own inhibitions that made her so nervous or the fear of this all being a dream, as so many scenes like this had.

After the kitchen had been cleared, which took a surprisingly long time, they moved into the living room, where the Grangers regaled Ron and Harry with stories about Hermione as she was growing up. As her parents looked around the room, they happily recounted stories, sometimes funny, sometimes sentimental as inspired by a particular object. During particularly embarrassing moments, Hermione would hide her head in Ron's should as he laughed and patted her back

From a picture of baby Hermione at the beach came an explanation of her fear of waves. Ron had to laugh as Mrs. Granger described in detail Hermione's wet rat resemblance with her hair and bonnet sticking to her head and diaper slipping off.

With a picture of Hermione hanging upside down from a tree came the explanation of her desire to be in gymnastic class.

The story that was attached to a picture of Hermione's first day at grade school made Ron squeeze her tighter and feel worse for his horrible treatment of her their first months at Hogwarts.

From Hermione's framed acceptance letter to Hogwarts came the story of how she ran through the house screaming for joy that she could be in a place where she completely belonged.

Finally, there was a picture of Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny from the summer of the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione laughed as she explained how she and Harry had the strongest urge for snow cones and dragged Ron and Ginny halfway across Ottery St. Catchpoole before finding an ice cream parlor.

Mrs. Granger turned her head to look out the window and started when she noticed the clock. Apparently, at eleven o'clock during the summers, Hermione used to watch a certain soap opera on tv. She insisted that they watch it, despite protests from Hermione as to its mindlessness and nonexistent appeal to the boys. Ron and Harry laughed and let Mrs. Granger turn on the tv. The nagging feeling came back to Hermione as she sat with her family; this wasn't right, it wasn't real. Normal teenagers should be doing this, not her- she was no longer normal.

It was as if Ron understood what she was thinking as he hugged her closely and whispered to her. "Stop worrying. We're safe for now."

"For now. But I can't stop feeling as if this shouldn't be happening," she whispered back

Rod nodded, "I understand, but try not to think about it. It won't be happening tomorrow."

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, squeezing them tight, and willing herself to let go. This always worked when she was little and she tried so hard to make it work now. It seemed as if her adult magic had replaced her childhood magic; damn reality.

Lunch had approached far too quickly, and Mr and Mrs. Granger became more affectionate and nervous as time moved on. Hermione's fear was not that leaving would be unbearable, since that was to be avoided, but that her parents wouldn't let her leave. It had been more difficult over the years to make them let go of her so she could return to school and she had to practically sneak away this year to join Harry and Ron. However, as the twelve o'clock bells sounded and the trio rose, her parents stayed seated with sad smiles on their faces. It was this sad resignation that they may never see their daughter again that made her crack.

Tears flew freely down her cheeks as she held on to her parents for dear life. Her body shook, so much like it had last night, and it was difficult to stand. She let herself sink onto her mother's lap as Mrs. Granger patted her hair and cried softly. Hermione no longer felt like an of-age witch and dependable, but like a small child as she held on and hoped her parents could make it all better. She hadn't cried to them like this since she had started grade school and had been hurt beyond imagination when she was shunned by the other children.

Mr. Granger stood behind his wife; his hand wrapped around Hermione's clenched ones. Atypical, he seemed to fit perfectly into the scene, as if his daughter crying her eyes out was perfectly occurred regularly. He let his daughter cry for a few moments before speaking calmly.

"Hermione, darling, you've made a promise to your boys. You must keep it, especially as its end is drawing near. You must remember that we'll be here when it's all done; we won't leave you."

The look in her eyes as she looked up at her father almost killed Ron. Hermione had never looked so helpless before. Very slowly, she rose and kissed her mother before hugging her father tightly.

"I'll remember Daddy. I'll be home again soon, I promise," she whispered before kissing him and heading over to join the boys.

Ron and Harry both profusely thanked the Grangers for their hospitality and breakfast and were surprisingly given hugs and kisses from Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger hugged each of them briefly and whispered something to Ron before he stepped back to join Harry and Hermione. The trio walked heavily out of the kitchen and the little backyard, into the alleyway. There they stopped to wave a final goodbye and Apparated to the Burrow in an instant.


	4. Teddy Bear

"I'm pretty scared about this," Harry whispered as they walked down the dirt lane that lead to the Burrow.

Ron nodded and bit his lower lip; he could understand Harry's meaning perfectly. As much as they wanted to come home, the trio was nervous. It wasn't the obvious dangers that had their stomachs flip-flopping; it was more of a fear of not leaving. Ron knew his will could only hold for so long, especially if his mother cried. It killed him to be doing this to her, to make her worry so much more than she had to. A few tears came to his eyes and he tried hard to blink them away before anyone noticed.

Upon the first look, nothing seemed amiss. The chickens were still running amok, the front shed was still breaking down, water boots and old shoes were everywhere. Weeds seemed to have taken over the front walk and the fence needed a new paint job. The shutters needed to be rehinged and the few windows that could be seen needed to be cleaned. As Ron took all this in, he realized how busy his family had to have been. Molly Weasley's house may be a jumble, but it was always clean. Arthur never let the windows (the eyes into the house) get into such a state of disrepair. Ginny adored weed pulling and always tried so hard to make the front garden look presentable. But perhaps the biggest change, the one that stabbed Ron straight in the stomach, wad the absence of children running around and screaming in the front yard.

Hermione seemed to feel the same thing and squeezed hand tightly. He looked down and she gave him a small smile, as if to say that everything was going to be okay. Something in that smile made him crack and he pulled her into his arms, just holding her close for a couple minutes. Ron buried his face into her hair, letting a few tears escape As she squeezed him back, he heard Harry approach. Ron let more tears escape as Harry joined their hug; Harry's shudder betrayed how scared he was. After another minute or so, they stepped away from each other. With another small smile, Hermione motioned towards the windows.

"I think we have some jobs waiting for us. I'm sure your dad left the windows for you since you've probably gotten much taller than him in the past few months," she teased.

Leave it to Hermione to make everything seem so normal. Ron couldn't help it as he pulled her into another tight hug and kissed her soundly. He loved the sound of her laughed as she kissed him back and pulled away.

"Come on, let's go home," and with that, Ron lead the way up to the front door.

They had barely made it to the front steps when the door flew open and a blur of red flew at Harry. Ginny attached herself to his neck, murmuring something only he could hear, and looked like she would kill the first person to drag her away. Harry had the same look on his face as he squeezed her just as tightly back. Ron couldn't help smiling as they kissed and leaned their foreheads against each other; Harry deserved this pleasure.

Within a second, Ron realized that he shouldn't have let himself turn his attention from the door. A tight, bone-crushing hug, perfected over the years, enveloped him as his mother wailed her greetings into his ear. With difficulty, Ron turned around to face her and hugged her tightly. He was a bit of a mama's boy, but even if he hadn't been, the knowledge that he could hug his mother soon was what helped get him through the days.

"Mum," he breathed, burying his face in her shoulder, "I'm home." Molly could only sob in response.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to suddenly come to her senses and she pulled herself from the embrace. She gave Hermione a quick hug and kiss, sent a smile occupied Harry's way, and ushered Ron and Hermione in. Once through the doorway, she returned to holding onto Ron for dear life, only this time including Hermione.

After another few minutes of suffocation, Molly let go for hopefully the last time and hurried off to the kitchen for snacks. Ron gave Hermione a quick kiss before quickly following his mother, muttering something about looking for his dad. She smiled to herself and stood semi-awkwardly by the doorframe, staring around the room and taking in the changes. She noticed the windows first, how they weren't wide open to let in the sunshine and garden breeze. The house was darker than she remembered, perhaps due to the lack of sunshine, but most likely due to the gloom that permeated the days.

The pictures were different, too. Percy's picture was missing from the mantelpiece, making Hermione wonder what he did you push Mrs. Weasley over the edge. The picture taken of the trio at Bill and Fleur's wedding, with food all over their faces, Hermione's hair a tangled mess, and all three piled on top of each other on the floor was prominently displayed on the coffee table. There was a smaller of Hermione and Ron right before the wedding as he was putting flowers on her hair. Next to it was a picture of Harry and Ron.

The floor was covered in pillows, blankets, and shoes, as if the family was living downstairs and as close together as possible. Then, Hermione noticed the bear. The Bear. It was Ron's after the twins had destroyed his first bear and he never let it out of his room. Hermione remembered him giving something big to Ginny before they left, but wasn't sure what it was. Of course, the teddy bear would make sense- he and Ginny were very close growing up and were still fairly close in school. Hermione bent to pick up the bear and smiled at its patches and pilled fur. So much like Ron, so much like everything Ron owned. She teared up as she held it close and leaned her cheek against it.

The door opened and the next thing she knew, Ginny had wrapped her in a tight hug. Hermione laughed and squeezed Ginny back, so glad to be around something feminine for a change.

"I've been so lost without you," Ginny teased after planting a kiss on Hermione's cheek, 'Nobody to nag me to do my homework or read my books, it's made me so bored. I'm jealous of the boys, since they've had you to keep them busy."

Hermione laughed again and hugged her friend tighter. "I've missed you too. I love my boys, but I can't giggle secrets to them in the middle of the night."

"You know I'm right here, right? I can hear you quiet easily," Ron teased, planting a kiss on Ginny's head.

Hermione's heart did flips as she watched brother and sister hug and tease. As much as Ron complained about them, he really loved his family and she knew how hard it was for him to be away from them. She felt arms wrap around her shoulders and she sighed a little as she leaned against Harry.

"Sickening how cute they are, isn't it?" he whispered, causing her to laugh.

"Oh hush, you're just jealous," she whispered back, turning her head so she could look at his face.

"Hermione, I'm shocked. I didn't think you had such an express death wish," Ron said, motioning to the scowling Ginny.

The two girls looked each other in the eyes and could barely hold in their laughter. Ginny rushed forward, grabbed Hermione's hand, and the two ran upstairs.


	5. Braids

So far, Ginny's room was the only bright spot in the house. Her windows, which faced the back of the house, were wide open and her room had been painted a pretty blue. Everything was in order, including her usually messy desk, which made Hermione nervous.

"I guess you have a lot of free time?" she said, looking at the neat piles of papers and cups holding quills. "Either that or you don't live in here much. I remember heari8ing that your room was only tidy while you were away."

She didn't mean for it to sound as horrible as it did, making it seem as if Ginny was too afraid to be in her own room. Ginny gave a half-hearted smile and nodded.

"No, I'm not in here much. I tend to only sleep in here, then spend the rest of the day doing Order business with Mum."

Hermione nodded and walked towards the windows. The back gardens were just as run over, if not more, than the front gardens. The path to the pond was no longer visible and she could barely see the treehouse ladder from the bushes growing around the tree trunk. Molly's vegetable gardens were the only things still orderly, but Hermione imagined that was out of necessity, not pleasure.

"The downstairs looks like the shacks Harry, Ron, and I've been staying in."

She was on a roll today. Ginny bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, we've been having a lot of company and it's just easier to have them sleep downstairs."

Ginny sat down on her bed and played with the duvet cover. Her shoulders stooped a little more now and her hair was missing its normal luster and smoothness. It was as if Ginny simply got up and performed the most basic grooming rituals everyday (so much like Hermione), since there was no purpose to being pretty anymore. After all, if she never left the house, who was there to impress? Hermione wanted to slap herself hard for imagining that they were the only ones suffering like that; she felt horrible for doing this to the Weasleys. Suddenly, she threw herself onto the bed next to Ginny and hugged her tight.

Ginny understood and held tightly back too. No tears fell, but both girls shook from the pressure of it all. They were still so young, they weren't supposed to have this life. They were supposed to be worrying about sex and clothes and NEWTS, not whether they would live to see their next meal and if that fight occurred, how they were going to defend themselves. Ginny was supposed to be dating Harry officially, living the fairy tale that she had always wanted. Ron and Hermione were supposed to be fighting everyday over mostly stupid things. Vacation was supposed to be drawing near, graduation along with it. But of course, all of this wasn't.

"I'm so jealous of you," Ginny whispered, "you've lost weight and I've been trying so hard not to gain any more!"

Hermione couldn't help laughing. "Yes, well, living in holes does that to you."

Ginny laughed and Hermione thanked whomever was listening that Ginny hadn't lost her beautiful smile. Ginny got up, went over to her dresser, then came back and sat down in front of Hermione. She held up a brush and gave her a puppy-pleading look.

"Braid my hair, please? Mum always hurts me when she does it."

Without speaking, Hermione took the brush and began to gently brush out the tangles in Ginny's beautiful hair. She always been so jealous of this hair, how it had always been so smooth and did whatever Ginny wanted it to do. Her own always had the appearance of receiving an electrical shock and needed too many products to name before it would even stay in a bun. Even without proper care, Ginny's was still so soft and easy let its tangles go. Hermione brushed a little more than necessary on Ginny's scalp, since the brush always felt so massaging. As she worked, Hermione noticed Ginny's shoulders relax and her head roll back a little more. It was therapeutic for her as well as she recreated that loving, sisterly bond that she had missed so much.

"Okay, so spill. Is he good in bed?" Ginny looked up at Hermione and gave her a mischievous little smile.

"He's your brother, are you sure you want to know?"

"I can forget that tiny detail. Spill Granger, or has your name changed yet?"

Hermione smiled and let out a small giggle. "No, not yet. We haven't spoken too much about marriage yet, mostly due to worry over the Horcruxes."

"He Owled Dad about a month ago for Grandmum's ring. I doubt you're supposed to know that, but I've been itching to tell you," Ginny climbed back up on her bed and began attempting to brush out Hermione's hair. "I'd love for you to be my sister. It just seems so natural."

"I know. I think that's another reason we haven't talked about it much. We both know and want it to come."

"Do you want braids or that bun I can normally do on your hair?"

"The bun, but be prepared to re-do it. I have a feeling your mum lefts some chores for us to do."

Ginny brushed a little harder on Hermione's scalp. "Yes, she did. However, back to the original topic. Is he good?"

Hermione was sure her blush could easily rival any Weasley's hair. "Yes, he is, but we don't have sex nearly as often as one would think.'

"Well, with Harry sleeping not too far away, I'm not surprised. Have you actually done it in a bed yet?"

Laughter filled the room for a few seconds. "Yes, when we visited at Christmas."

"I thought the ghoul was a little noisier than usual."

"Ginny!"

"So, if it isn't sex, then what do you two do when you sleep together?"

"Just that: sleep. Normally, he rubs my shoulders and neck, but we've gotten more pleasure out of being near each other than anything else."

Ginny nodded and she looked a little grateful to not be hearing about a wild sex life involving her brother. "He says that he loves you?"

Hermione smiled a little wistfully. "Every morning when I wake him up and every night before I fall asleep. Each time, I kiss him and try to remember throughout the day how it makes me feel so that I appreciate it even more…"

"Since you don't know if you'll hear it again." It wasn't a question. "I do that with Harry's letters."

"He loves you, so very much. He calls out for you in his sleep all the time."

Ginny nodded, although a bit of a proud smile played around her lips. "It's the same dream every time. It's the same dream I have almost every night."

"Girls! Come downstairs! I have some lunch ready and I need to speak to all four of you at the same time!"

"Hurry up! Mum won't let us eat until you're seated!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hasn't changed too much then- his stomach is still more important than anything else."


	6. The Record Player

Lunch was a quiet affair, although Hermione wasn't sure if this was due to the amount of food being consumed or the absence of the twins. She almost asked where Fred and George were, but thought the better of it, since she had a nasty feeling that as soon as she did, they would appear with a bang. Ginny and Harry kept stealing glances and Hermione had the feeling that they were playing some form of footsie under the table. At least, she hoped it was footsie, since she didn't want to know what kept hitting her foot if it was something else. Ron, per usual, managed to put down at least three helpings of everything before anyone had finished with their first helpings.

Normally, Hermione would have scolded him, but today she just didn't have the heart. He seemed to know what she was thinking and stopped eating after his fifth sandwich, reaching across the table to hold her unoccupied hand. This made eating slightly more difficult, but she enjoyed the simple gesture too much to change her situation. Ginny, who was sitting next to her brother, flashed Hermione a smile before turning her attention to Ron.

"Mum's right, you have gotten thinner," she remarked, eyeing him up and down. "You've gotten more freckles too. What've you been doing out in the sun so much to make you freckle like that?"

Ron glanced worriedly at Harry, who nodded. Before Ron could answer her, Mrs. Weasley swept into the room to collect the dishes.

"Now, I know you lot are back home to relax, but I really need some help. Ron's the only one who can properly wash the windows, and Harry, I'd love it if you'd help me by fixing that fence. Arthur seems to think he can do it the Muggle way, but you know how that normally turns out. I remember you once mentioning that you've worked on fences before, so I thought you might be better for the job."

Harry nodded. "I'd be glad too," he answered as he handed her his dishes.

"Hermione, Ginny, the front gardens are atrocious. You don't have to completely repair them, but could you at least get out the weeds?"

As the girls nodded, Mrs. Weasley began to shoo the four out of the dining room, murmuring something about preparing for dinner. As Hermione and Harry headed through the front door, Ron pulled Ginny to the side.

"I can't tell you right now, since Mum's nearby, but remind me later and I'll tell you what's been going on, okay?" he whispered.

Ginny nodded and winked at him before heading out the front door. Ron smiled, relieved his sister was taking things so well, before heading to the closet under the stairs to grab the cleaning supplies. Assuming he was in charge of all the windows, inside and out, Ron decided to take care of the outside first and trudged out the back door towards his father's tool shed. Out back, nothing had really changed, although the garden was a little more run-down than normal. The door to the shed was difficult to open, most likely due to the enormous amount of Muggle contraptions stored safely away from Molly's prying eyes. It made Ron laugh to look at the old record player sitting on a three-legged table- it reminded him of a night last fall when the Trio had felt it still safe enough to go out.

It had been Hermione's birthday and the boys felt bad because they hadn't planned a celebration for her. She had insisted that a simple birthday greeting would be enough, since anything more would blow their cover. Ron had been willing to go along with her until Harry explained that she was turning eighteen and thus coming of age in the Muggle world. Ron quickly agreed that some form of celebration was necessary and began to worry about what to give her. He had somehow managed to sneak out that morning to buy her gift from the boys and found a small pub that was fairly out of the way in the nearby village. He made the arrangements and quickly raced back to their rooms (Ron winced at how much the situation had changed) to tell the other two.

Hermione was furious, insisting that none of the party was necessary and was sure to ruin the mission. Harry just laughed at her, insisting that by refusing their plans, she was ruining her day and their mood. After much persuading, Hermione agreed to go, but insisted that they didn't dress up and that there was to be no singing. Ron held her hand as he led the way to the pub, inside of which was a small birthday cake waiting at a little table in the back. Hermione playfully smacked his arm and blushed as the boys sang to her then insisted she make a wish and blow out the candles. Even with their pleading and wheedling, she refused to tell her wish (which reminded Ron that she still hadn't told him).

As she doled out the cake, an old record player next to the table caught her eye. She rushed over and giggled as she looked at the nearby player. The barman insisted she play it, as a birthday treat, and she agreed on the condition that Ron dance with her to it. Ron quickly agreed, only because it was her birthday, and nervously took her hands as she raced up to him after winding the player. The music was slow, a love song, and miraculously easy to dance to. Ron enjoyed holding her close, listening to her hum the song in his ear, relieved it had been so easy to make her happy on her birthday.

Back in the present, Ron began to hum the song as he searched for the ladder. He hadn't thought about her birthday wish in a long time, but seeing the record player made him want to try again and find out. After much stress and consternation, he was finally able to extricate the ladder from behind a dresser and trudged towards the front of the house to begin washing the windows. Ron forced himself not to concentrate on the mess that met his eyes and looked around as his family moved about the yard.

Harry, best friend and future brother-in-law, was threatening to throw paint on the girls if they didn't stop pestering him and get to work. Ginny, beautiful baby sister, was egging Harry on, daring him to throw the paint, which all present knew he would never do. How Harry was supposed to kill a man when he couldn't even throw paint at a girl bewildered Ron, who instantly mentally smacked himself for thinking such thoughts. Harry was going to save the day, just as always, and both Ron and Hermione firmly believed in him. Ron looked to his left and smiled as he looked at Hermione, the love of his life, who was sitting on her feet in the dirt, threatening to throw weeds Harry's way. She turned to look at Ron and blew him a kiss before pointing up towards the windows. Ron nodded and began to work.

The windows were a difficult job, not simply because of the amount of grime on them, but because of their difficulty to reach. The Burrow had been haphazardly added on to as more children came into the house, so windows were in odd places. Ron, being the tallest child, was able to do the job the easiest and for some reason had the patience for it. He barely noticed the time pass and heard nothing beyond his own breathing as he worked. He nearly fell off of the ladder when he heard his mother calling him in for a snack just as he finished the last window. He came down and was surprised to see Ginny standing at the bottom, apparently waiting for him.

"Look, Mum thinks you're putting everything away, so why don't you tell me what's been going on as I help you," she demanded, picking up the basket of supplies.

Ron shook his head at his sister's stubbornness. "Okay Gin, what do you want to know?"

"Where have you been?"

"All over England," he replied, folding up the ladder, "mostly around London. That's not where our base it right now, but I can't tell you where that is."

She nodded. "What have you been doing?"

"You singular or plural?"

"Both."

They had reached the shed by now and Ron took his time opening the door. "In plural, we've been hunting for clues as to where Death Eaters' bases are. In singular, Hermione's been researching, Harry's been worrying, and I've been training. I need to be of some help, and I figured every group needs a muscle man. Anything else?"

Ginny shook her head. "You've probably told me too much as it is."

Ron looked backwards at his sister and felt his heart break. It killed him every time he had to leave her behind and to see her accept it like this made the hurt worse. He couldn't help it as he pulled her close and squeezed the life out of her. Ginny, being his sister and closest sibling, understood and squeezed back just as tightly.

"I love you Gin," he whispered, trying to hold back tears.

"I know; it's good to hear you say it," she whispered back, her voice sounding choked up, "I love you too, big brother."


	7. Messy Ron

A/N: Okay, this is the chapter where the story earns its rating. It's not uber-graphic, unlike some other stories, but you can't miss it. If you're uncomfortable with reading such a scene, stop reading once everyone runs to the bathroom. However, if you are, I must ask why you're reading an M-rated story in the first place….

All Ron wanted to do was run upstairs and shower the tons of filth and grime off his body. Of course, his mother had other plans and insisted on a sit-down, family snack time and refused to listen to the children's pleas of needing to be clean. As close as he was to Hermione and after as many battles together they had been through, it still made him cringe to sit next down to her so unclean. She certainly had her fair share of dirt on her person, but it seemed to work so perfectly with her mussed-up hair and worn down jeans. He, on the other hand, looked like he had just rolled out of the pig pen. Ron tried to rub off some of the dirt before sitting down, however he only managed to make the smudges worse. Hermione smiled and winked at him.

"I've seen you after battles, in the hospital wing, after matches, and in absolutely nothing. Why are you worried about a little dirt?" she teased, pushing her finger into a spot of dirt on his nose.

Ron kissed her forehead and smiled; it was rare Hermione teased like that, especially lately, so he decided to enjoy it as much as he could. "I prefer to look my best for my girl, who seems to never care if she looks her best for me."

Hermione stuck out her tongue and took one of the proffered rolls. "You certainly looked your best washing those windows. I couldn't keep my eyes off your arms."

Ron took a roll for himself and passed the basket to Harry, who looked like he wanted to puke. "And I couldn't keep my eyes off that ass of yours. What have you been doing to it? I swear it gets better every time I look," Ron whispered, smirking at Hermione's blush. "Now, why would you be blushing? I've seen you in nothing at all, certainly my staring freely at your ass would mean nothing."

"I wish you wouldn't refer to it as my 'ass'" she scolded, looking down at her plate.

"Well, that's what it is. It's too amazing to be a simple butt- ass is the best and most complimentary word I can think of to describe it."

"Ron, complimentary means free. You wouldn't want other men to be staring at my 'ass', now would you?"

"Like hell I would. You're mine- we went through too much shit for me to give you up easily," Ron said, somewhat loudly, throwing his roll on the plate. Harry and Ginny looked up from their conversation with shocked smiles on their faces; Hermione's blush deepened. Mrs. Weasley poked her head through the door, glaring.

"Sorry mum," Ron whispered meekly and turned back to eating his roll. About mid-way through his bite, he felt a hand slid down his leg and affectionately squeeze his knee. Glancing sideways at Hermione, he caught a brief sneaky smile before she began to drink her tea. Ron reached down, brought her hand upwards, and kissed it.

After the snack, the mad rush to the bathroom commenced. Ron being the one with the longest legs, was able to skip up the stairs three at a time to reach the bathroom by his room. Ginny managed to sneak into their parents' bathroom as Harry and Hermione fought over the one on the fourth floor. The fight would have become bloody had Ginny not suggested that Hermione invade Ron's shower. Ron could only hear what was going on, but the next thing he was aware of was Hermione pounding on his bathroom door, demanding to be let in.

Lady Luck was once again presenting him with a chance he just could not turn down. What his mother would say, or do for that matter, if he and Hermione were caught in the shower together didn't matter- all he wanted was to have some time with her to himself. He wrapped a towel around his waist and quickly opened the door to usher her in.

"Your mum is going to kill us if she finds out, so we'll have to be quick," Hermione hissed, preparing to rip off her clothes.

"Slow down," Ron commanded, grabbing hold of her wrists, "You know how upset my mum would be and you're still planning on getting in that shower with me? What's gotten in to you lately?"

Hermione grinned wickedly. "Well, it's more of what hasn't gotten into me lately."

Ron's eyes widened briefly before he began to laugh. He pulled her close and kissed her ear softly. "We can most certainly fix that. However, a quickie does not appeal to me. We never hurried around Harry, why should we in my own house?"

Hermione gave him a long, sultry kiss before easing out of his arms and towards the shower. With each step backwards, she lifted her shirt just a little bit higher. When she reached the edge of the shower, she turned her back on him before throwing off her shirt and bra. She turned on the shower and as she waited for the water to get sufficiently warm, she slipped out of her pants and wrapped a towel around her waist.

"Oh come on, I was enjoying that!" Ron protested. "I've seen you take off your knickers before, why are you trying to be all modest now?"

"Well, I figured you had seen enough of my ass earlier to not be interested now," she teased, slipping her underwear off from underneath the towel and throwing it towards him.

Ron stood open-mouthed with Hermione's underwear hanging off his face as she slipped the towel off of her waist and slid into the shower. He could barely move due to shock and evidently his pause did not please Hermione, for she stuck her head out of the shower and glared at him. Ron snapped out of his stupor and quickly stepped into the shower.

The warm water and steam felt good- it was rare that he had had the luxury of these showers the past couple months. He leaned against the tiled wall for a few minutes, just letting the water soak his skin, and couldn't help but smile. 'Amazing what living in hell can do to you,' he thought as the water's pressure and heat seemed to increase pleasantly.

"Turn around."

Ron's eyes flew open and he couldn't believe how he had his very naked girlfriend standing not two feet away from him. She smiled and motioned for him to turn around. He complied, but couldn't help remarking, "Oh, so you can enjoy my ass like I enjoyed yours?"

"No, yours isn't as attractive as you think it is," she replied sarcastically. "I'm going to massage your back- this is almost the ideal location for it."

He leaned his head against the slippery tile and couldn't help letting out a moan as Hermione's hands worked their way down his neck and spine. Ron stopped thinking about anything else but where her hands were moving and the pressures of her fingers. He wasn't sure how long she had been rubbing his back before he felt her hands slid around his waist and her body press against his back. Soft kisses trailed down the path her fingers had made on his spine and he could feel a reaction beginning to form.

Ron turned around to face her and lifted her chin up so he could have easier acess to her mouth. Her hands slid up his chest and into his hair, and she pushed her body against his so enticingly. Ron let out another moan and placed on hand on the back of her head so that he could control the kiss better. She felt so good against him, with the water soaking both of their bodies and the heat making him lose control of his thoughts. Ron could feel his erection growing, and from the kisses Hermione was giving him, she could also.

Hermione's hands slid back down his body as she pulled away from his mouth. She began to kiss a trail from his ear, down his neck, to his chest as one hand slid downwards, the other hand pressing against the wall. Her touch aroused him even more and she traced her fingers along his penis, knowing fully well how crazy it was driving him. He groaned as she sucked on his neck and finally wrapped her hand around him. She moved slowly and deliberately, as if she enjoyed torturing him. All thoughts were centered on the way her hand was moving, up and down, up and down. It all felt too good, as if he was having another dream, that he wasn't sure how much longer he would last. He squeezed Hermione's waist, hoping she would understand that he was getting close.

Hermione stopped attacking his neck and stood on tip-toe to whisper in his ear. "How do you want me to finish?"

Ron was incapable of thinking, much less speaking, so all he could do was moan as she gripped a little tighter.

"You want me to choose?"

Ron wasn't sure how, but somehow he nodded and he felt her mouth leave his ear. Both of her hands were on his waist and the most wonderful, moist feeling took over. It took every ounce of control for him not to orgasm right then. He held on for as long as he could and reached down to squeeze her shoulder to prepare her. He felt Hermione laugh and suck a little harder. It was impossible to resist and he gave in, moaning her name as he came.

It was as if he had been granted the use of his brain again and he could only think of one thing: make Hermione feel the way he had felt. Ron pulled her back up into a passionate kiss as he turned them around so that she was pinned against the wall. He kissed her jawbone, neck, and collarbone before moving further south to her breasts. One hand held onto her hip as the other trailed downwards. All he had to do was barely touched her for her to let out the most arousing noise he had ever heard and arch her body towards his. He let out a chuckle against her left breast and continued his attentions with his mouth as his fingers moved further in to explore.

The deeper his two fingers went, the more she squirmed and moaned. Her hands clutched at his back, and as he began to move his fingers in slow circles, her knees almost gave way. She let out a throaty moan and murmured something that sounded like "please" as she moved her hips to give him better access. With a request like that, who was he to refuse? Ron trailed kissed down her stomach before stopping to rest just above her pubic hair. He stopped moving his fingers and looked up to see the look of longing in her eyes as Hermione looked down to see why he was stopping.

Ron smiled wickedly before moving downwards and replacing his fingers with his tongue. Her knees gave way again; if he hadn't been holding on to her waist, she would have collapsed to the floor. She moaned again and murmured something like "close"- how she was capable of speech during something like this completely awed Ron. He began to rub his hands in circles on her hips as he moved his tongue faster and more purposefully. She let out one more, loud moan before sliding down on to the floor in front of him. Her eyes opened, still somewhat foggy, and she gave him a sexy, satisfied smile.

He couldn't resist kissing her again and holding her close to him; something in the back of his mind told him to enjoy this moment while it lasted.


	8. Quilts

I'M SO SORRY! I honestly meant to update much much much sooner- back in September- but this is my first semester in college and college life took over. I really am so sorry and am quite prepared for the ensuing floggings. I truly hope this chapter semi-makes up for it and I promise to publish something new before my vacation is up.

"I refuse to take a shower with you again- my hair was barely washed properly."

Ron couldn't help laughing as he watched his girlfriend wring out her long hair over the bathtub. "I doubt it's been washed properly since the last time we came out of hiding; why are you so concerned now?" he teased while pulling on a clean shirt.

Hermione shot him a look of 'you should understand' and went back to wringing out her hair. "I wonder what your mum's going to have us do now," she mused, watching the water drip out of her hair.

Ron shrugged noncommittally and turned to leave the bathroom, blowing her a kiss before stepping out of view. Hermione gave her hair a final wring before pinning it up into a messy bun and wandered across the hall into Ron's room where clean clothes were laying on his neatly made bed. She smirked, knowing that Mrs. Weasley had something to do with the tidy state of his room; her imagination ran away from her as she pictured the state of their own home when they got married. Books and papers would cover every inch of table and desk space, shoes would litter the floor, trash bins would overflow. The house wouldn't be dirty, just very well lived, as Hermione had always wanted. She hated those pristine houses that looked as if weren't being lived in- nothing ever seemed comfortable in them. And if Hermione loved one thing, it was being comfortable. Not cushy, just comfortable.

As she fingered the bright orange quilt on Ron's bed, she imagined the same quilt on their own child's bed. Of course, their baby would have his freckles and smile, hopefully his hair too, and her smarts and ability to not sunburn. He'd have his father's laugh and penchant for mischief, but his mother's sense of when to stop. He'd have their loyalty and no end of friends, especially his many cousins from Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny.

She and Ron would live next to Harry and Ginny in big, slightly run-down cottages near Ottery St. Catchpoole. She would have a huge vegetable garden and lots of flowers surrounding the house. There wouldn't be a fence separating the Weasleys and the Potters and the children would be in their aunts' houses so often that the doting aunties would forget whose child was whose. A pond would be in the woods behind the houses and deep in the woods would be a mini Quidditch field for the children and the husbands to play on. The windows would be open all spring and summer and a fire would be burning all winter.

Sundays would be spent at Grandmum and Grandad Weasley's home and, as a treat, Friday nights could be spent in London with Grandmum and Grandad Granger. Hermione would teach the children until they were old enough to go to Hogwarts, where they would be the top of their classes. Ginny would spoil them rotten with presents and take them shopping all the time. Harry and Ron would be the over-protective dads, but always good for a nice wrestle in the grass.

Everything would be perfect, because Harry, Hermione, and Ron had fought so hard to make it so. Everything would be perfect, because Voldemort would be gone.

"Hermione? Any reason you're gripping my quilt?"

Hermione quickly jolted out of her reverie and blushed slightly as she looked up at Ron. He had that knowing smirk on his face as he walked over and helped her up. He softly kissed her on the forehead before telling her that they were needed downstairs. She half-consciously nodded, continuing to stare at the rumpled quilt. The imperfections began to appear- a rip at one corner, many faded patches, a few stains whose origins Hermione didn't want to know, and stitches that were slowly coming undone.

The quilt was perfection and imperfection at the same time. It seemed so lovely, so content, so homemade as it sat on Ron's bed, but on closer inspection, it was only a patched-up memory. Their future, no matter how perfect Hermione imagined it, would only be a patch to cover their imperfect past. Despite Ron and Hermione's deep understanding of each other, they would always fight violently and often. Harry's hero complex wouldn't be satiated- he would pick the most dangerous job he could in order to keep fighting and saving. Hermione, as happy as she would be being a mother, would always want more; she would always want to be a scholar, buried in her world of books instead of surrounded by reality. Ron, who had been forced to grow up so quickly in these past few months, would either lose his fun-loving self or regress to a point where he could not support a wife or children.

Tears began to roll down Hermione's cheeks as she reached back out and touched the quilt. At eighteen, she should not have to worry about whether she would be alive in six hours. At eighteen, she should not feel so jaded that even being in love couldn't bring her joy. At eighteen, she shouldn't feel as if she were sixty.

Her body flinched as Ron wrapped his arms around her. She felt him kiss the back of her head, and more tears began to spill out. He held her in silence as she cried, like he did almost every night. She couldn't stop, despite the guilt she was feeling or the need to go downstairs.

"Mione, look, I know you aren't all that fond of quilted things, but do you really need to have such a reaction over my quilt?" he whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Hermione couldn't help the choked laugh that burst out of her. "Do I have to explain right now?" she whispered back, allowing herself to lean back against him as her tears began to subside.

Ron shook his head and kissed her shoulder. "Why bother? We're all feeling the same way."


End file.
